Equilibrium
by TardisBlue1504
Summary: After the Doctor changes his mind and comes back for Rose instead of leaving her in the parallel universe with his human counterpart, the Metacrisis Doctor discovers that the multiverses have a strange knack for working themselves out. Cross posted on whofic.
1. Chapter 1

I know she's going to put up a fight when she realizes exactly what the other me is doing. Rose is not the kind of girl (well, woman-she's definitely not the same doe-eyed teenager that I once bid a tearful goodbye to in this very same spot) to sit back and be left behind, again. She stomps after the other me as he turns around and tries to walk away, this time without so much as a goodbye. No, this is not going to go well. For either of us.

"But it's still not right," I can hear her saying over the wind. "Because the Doctor's still…you."

"And I'm him," the other me reminds her gently. There's a pained look on his face. I can tell he's close to cracking-if she pushes much more, he'll throw the entire multiverse away just to be with her. I know, because he is me.

I saunter forward, hands in my pockets. He and I stand facing each other. It's like looking in a mirror. Same nose, same dark eyes, same freckle over my left eye that I look at every day. Rose's eyes dart back and forth between the two of us, as if her brain still can't quite process that there are two of us. Here. With her. I see Donna waiting behind the other Doctor, looking a little impatient. I don't think he's told her just what's going to happen when they leave this place; if only the DoctorDonna could last forever. I feel like my heart might break.

"All right," Rose says. "Both you, answer me this. When I last stood on this beach, on the worst day of my life, what was the last thing you said to me?" She looks at the other me, waiting. I, too, wait for it, my heart pounding in my chest. It's his answer she wants, not mine. I know that much.

"Go on, say it," Rose says impatiently.

"I said…"Rose Tyler." The other Doctor gulps, his voice breaking slightly. He's silently pleading with his eyes, begging her not to make him say the words that he can't say.

"And how is that sentence going to end?"

The silence between the two of them seems to stretch out for an eternity, but I already know what he's going to say.

"Does it need saying?"

Rose's face falls slightly. She turns to me. "And you, Doctor?"

Oh, sod it. If he's not going to say it, then I definitely will. She needs to hear it, now more than ever. I should have said it years ago, back when I wore leather and had blue eyes.

I chance a brief look at the other me standing there before turning and leaning in close to her ear. This doesn't seem like something that the whole world should hear. "I love you," I tell her. Because I do. I love that girl iso/i much, I would have torn apart the universes to get to her if it had been possible. As I was running down that darkened street earlier, I had decided right then and there that I was going to drop down to my knees and ask her to marry me. Screw timelines, Daleks, and short human lives. For once in my own long life, I was going to be selfish, even if it meant I would have to watch her wither and die eventually. But then I had gotten shot by that damned Dalek, and everything changed.

Rose stares at me for a moment, a storm of emotions in her eyes. Grabbing the lapels of my jacket, she pulls me down and crashes her lips to mine, kissing me like there's no tomorrow. And oh, iit's amazing./i Why have I been so stupid for so long?

Rose jumps slightly at the sound of the TARDIS door slamming shut. She pulls out of my arms and runs towards it, but it's too late. The Doctor and Donna are gone from this existence, forever. She stares at the imprint in the sand, as if she can will the TARDIS to come back with her mind. Taking a deep breath, I step forward and reach for her hand. What else can I do? She's Rose Tyler and more than anything right now, she needs a hand to old. So do I.

"What now?" she asks dully, turning to look at me. I can see the hurt in her eyes, and I wonder if she'll ever ireally/i be able to accept me. If she'll ever be able to get over him. Right now, he still has Rose Tyler's heart with him inside that old blue police box, and I don't know that I'll ever get it back.

"Well," I say, trying to think of something, anything, to say that might be helpful. "I suppose…we live, Rose Tyler."

"I don't ever want to come back to this beach," she tells me bitterly. "Nothing but bad memories." She holds my hand in a death grip as we turn and walk towards Jackie, who is now standing father down the beach chattering on her mobile to Pete.

I can still hear the whine of the TARDIS engines in my head. I doubt I'll ever be able to get over that sound as long as I'm alive. She was only a memory to me now. The TARDIS had been a part of my life for so long, and now I'm going to have to learn how to live without her. Rose suddenly stops dead in her tracks and stares at me, confused. It's then that I realize that the sound of the TARDIS is inot/i, in fact, in my head, but instead is coming right behind me. We turn around just as it materializes in the same spot where it just sat. The imprint in the sand hasn't even disappeared yet.

After that, everything seems to happen in slow motion. Rose drops my hand and takes off running. The doors fly open again and The Doctor runs out, his hair sticking up in every direction and his brown coat flying out behind him.

"Rose!" I can hear him shout over the wind. I can't deny that my heart is sinking a little in disappointment as I watch him sweep her up into a bear hug and swing her around, just like we used to do. Well, they used to do, I guess. I may look like him and have his memories but I'm not the Doctor. "Rose Tyler, I love you!" I can hear him shout. "I'm sorry I was so thick, so sorry, I don't know what I was thinking!"

Rose is laughing now, an expression of sheer happiness on her face. I haven't seen ithat/i look in years. Not since before we were separated. I turn my eyes away as he pulled her into a passionate kiss, the kiss of reunited lovers. It doesn't seem like something that I or anyone else should see. That, and it just hurts to see her with him. Who ever thought that I would be jealous of myself? I suppose it was obvious from moment we landed on this beach that she would choose him anyway. It was never me that she wanted.

"Doctor?" Jackie pipes up quietly from behind me. She looks like she's near tears, because she knows what this means. She's likely going to lose her daughter for good this time.

"I'm alright," I say automatically, not looking her in the eye. "I'm always alright." I know she doesn't believe me; I don't even believe them myself this time.

"Doctor?"

This time it's Rose. I look up to see her watching me with a look of guilt on her face. I can tell that she had completely forgotten that I was there, and that just a few moments ago she kissed me as if her life depended on it.

"No Rose," I tell her, holding up my hand. I know what she's going to say, and I don't want to hear it. "I knew you were going to choose him. From the moment I was created, I knew it. All I ever wanted was for you to be happy. And if it's him you need to be happy with instead of me, then I want you to be with him. I fight off the bile that's rising in my throat, wishing I still had my Time Lord physiology.

Rose steps forward and pulls me into a hug. Our lips aren't going to be meeting this time. "Thank you," she whispers to me, low enough so that the other Doctor can't hear. "For everything." She pulls away from me and returns to him. I notice that Donna is nowhere in sight. The Doctor catches my eye and gives me an imperceptible nod to say, "It's done." I wonder how long he was actually gone, and how long it took him to work up the nerve to come back. Despite what he told Rose, it will take weeks for the walls between the universes to close forever. And even then, there will be holes.

"I hate to interrupt this happy reunion," Jackie pipes up suddenly. "But it's bloody freezin' out here and I want to go home and see my family." She gives Rose a look, as if she's silently adding ithe part of my family that doesn't keep leaving/i to the end of that sentence.

"Oh, right, yes!" The other Doctor says, turning around and grinning. "Need a lift home?" he turns and points his thumb in the direction of the TARDIS. He and Rose head off towards the ship hand in hand, with Jackie following. I stay where I am for a moment, staring out at the sea. It's in that moment that I know I can never be just the Tin Dog. A new life, or something like that, is about to begin for me, and I'm going to make it mine.

Hello, I'm the Metacrisis, and there's nobody else like me.


	2. Chapter 2

The next few days are awkward, to say the least. Much to Jackie's relief, Rose and the Doctor have decided to stick around for a while to let the TARDIS rest. The two of them can't seem to get enough of each other. Who can blame them, though? Three years was too much, too long. Rose keeps trying to talk to me about what happened, but I always find a reason to leave, claiming that I have something I have to do. The TARDIS always needs another repair, and the spare sonic screwdriver that I pilfered from the other Doctor could always use another setting.

The worst thing, though, is the looks I keep getting. Every time I walk into the room Rose looks guilty, Jackie looks worried, and the other Doctor just sits there looking suspicious. So far the only one that seems to be completely neutral about my creation is Pete. Which is probably why I've allowed him to drag me to Torchwood on this particular day, despite my general distaste for anything remotely related to Torchwood. Of course, it also gives him the opportunity to ask me the one question I've been trying to avoid.

"So what are your plans, Doctor?" Pete asks me casually when we're out of earshot of the other employees.

I'm sitting in artifacts department surrounded by a large pile of bits and bobs, tossing the ones that are nothing but space garbage into the trash and separating the others into two piles: _deadly _and _catastrophic_. Of course these brilliant humans would stumble upon an abandoned alien ship filled with items that could end all of humanity; and now I'm one of them. Despite my misgivings about the current situation, I find it rather delightful if I do say so myself. Pete watches me work, looking slightly bored.

"Haven't really thought about it," I murmur through the sonic screwdriver, which I'm holding between my teeth. Actually, I've been thinking about it a lot. I don't know where I'll be going, but becoming Rose and the Doctor's third wheel is not my idea of fun. I don't exactly share well.

"You know, if you're going to stick around here for a while, you'll need a name," Pete says pointedly.

"I have one," I tell him, tossing another piece of junk over my shoulder. "Doctor."

"That's not a name," he tells me, rolling his eyes. "What are you going to do when you get stopped by a copper and all you can say is, "I'm the Doctor?" and he says, "Doctor Who?" and all you can say is, "Just the Doctor." That's going to go over very well for you."

"That's easy," I argue. "I won't get caught."

"Right," he says skeptically. "Well, either way, you should start thinking of a name. We'll have to get you some identification. I've got to get back to my office and finish up some paperwork. "If you blow anything up, just make sure you clean up the mess, alright?" He waves his hand over the pile of junk in front of me and gives me a grin before turning to leave.

"Noble," I call out to him as he reaches the door.

"What?"

"Noble," I tell him again. "Ian Noble." I hope that Donna wouldn't mind that I'm using her name. She's just about the closest thing to a sister that I've ever had and it's been in my mind since I last saw her on Bad Wolf Bay.

"Dr. Ian Noble," he says slowly, as if testing out on his tongue. "I like it."

Rose finally manages to corner me that afternoon while I'm working on rewiring the TARDIS console. It's not really something that _needs_ to be done right away, but it gives me something to focus on besides her. I'm lying on the grating beneath the open console, staring at the massive tangle of wires above my head and cursing the Doctor (certainly not myself) who had the bright idea to run the wires like this when she walks in. Our eyes meet briefly as I look up at the sound of her footsteps, but I quickly return my attention to what I'm doing. "The other Doctor isn't here," I tell her flatly. I have no idea where he is, though I suspect he's deliberately avoiding the TARDIS while I'm puttering around.

"Actually, I was looking for you," she says, watching me with her hands on her hips. "I know you've been avoiding me, Doctor."

I pull a handful of wires from the group, feeling irritable. "I'm not avoiding-Ow!" The TARDIS sends a spray of blue sparks my way, burning three of my fingers. I leap to my feet, my left temple barely missing the edge of the console. _Was that necessary?_ I silently growl at the TARDIS. She sends back a _YES!_ that would be nothing less than an exasperated yell if she was able to talk. I suck on my burned fingers, wishing that I still had the Time Lord ability to block pain.

Rose comes over to inspect my hand. I flinch when she touches me, though not because of the pain in my hand. "You're hurt."

"I'm fine," I insist, pulling my hand away. I try not to sound bitter. I'm not, really. I just don't need anyone fussing and worrying over me, especially Rose Tyler.

She quirks an eyebrow at my tone, then grabs me gently by the wrist and leads me to the infirmary anyway. I protest lightly, but when have I ever been able to deny Rose Tyler what she wants? She orders me to sit on the table, so I do.

"Got something better now," I tell her, nodding at a drawer to her left when she starts pulling supplies out of various cabinets. "Use the Advanced Dermal Regulator, version DLXIII. Second drawer on the left."

"Right." Rose pulls out what looks like a small black scan gun out of the drawer and studies it, trying to figure out the complicated mass of buttons that line the top.

"All you have to do is push that button there-" my hand accidentally brushes hers as I reach out and hit a tiny green button on the handle- "And hold it while you run the scanner over the injured area. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy." I grimace. "Ooh, never let me say that again."

"Hold out your hand," Rose orders. I obey, gritting my teeth in pain and trying not to groan as she runs the regulator over the injured area. "You're doing great," I tell her when she looks up at me with worried eyes. "Just stings a bit, that's all." She nods, and continues what she's doing. There is a strange silence between us. Certainly a rarity, considering that this version of me has never _stopped_ talking.

"So…is it true?" she asks me after a few minutes, unable to bear the awkwardness between us any longer.

"Is what true?" I'm rather confused by her question.

"What you said. On the beach. About…you."

Ah. "Yep," I tell her, popping the "p" like I always do. "One heart, one life. Completely human. Well, mostly. I still have the Time Lord brain." I tap the side of my head.

She nods. "We should probably talk about this."

I opt for stalling, though it couldn't be more obvious what she's getting at. "A Time Lord Brain in a human body? It does take some getting used to, let me tell you. My eyes are terrible. I actually _need_ my glasses now. And you don't even want to know how many times I have to-"

Rose cuts off my rambling with a sigh, clearly frustrated with me. Her hand is shaking slightly, and she nearly drops the scanner. "_This_. _Us_. Every time I walk into the room you find a reason to leave. I don't want you to…" She lets the sentence hang between us, unfinished.

"You don't want me to what, Rose?" My hand, which is resting on her free one while she works on it, tightens slightly.

"…Hate me."

"Hate you?" I can't believe she would think that I could _ever _hate her. "Oh, Rose." I pull the scanner out of her hand and place it on the table behind be before placing my arms on her shoulders. My hand is still throbbing from the burns, but that can wait. Human me or no, she's still the most important thing in my life and I want her to know it. I almost pull her to me but I realize that that would be moving into dangerous territory, so I force myself to be content with having her at arm's length. "Rose, I could never hate you. Why would you think that?"

"Because…because I made a choice. And I broke your heart."

As is the usual for me, I resort to running by gob to hide my emotions. "Well, you'd have to break one of our hearts anyway, right? Or two, in his case. Breaking two hearts is worse than breaking just one, don't you think? Not that a heart really "breaks" when someone is sad, of course. Rejection activates the dorsal anterior cingulate cortex and right ventral pre-frontal cortex, which processes-"

I shut up when I see tears forming in her eyes. "Oh Rose, don't cry," I tell her gently, suddenly feeling like a jerk. I wipe the tears off her cheeks with my thumb. I've never been able to stand seeing her cry. It brings out a bit of the oncoming storm in me, I suppose. I just want to go and make the universe right so that she's happy again. "Remember what I told you on the beach?"

"Well…you told me that you love me."

I nod. "I did. And I meant it. What else did I tell you?"

"That if he was what I needed to be happy, then you wanted me to be with him."

"That wasn't just me running my mouth, Rose," I tell her, brushing a loose strand of hair out of her face. "I meant that, too. All I want is for you to be happy. It's also the reason that he left the first time. Because he, and I, would do anything for you if we thought it was the best thing for you. Do you understand?"

Rose nods, sniffing a bit. "But what about you?" she asks me, leaning in to my shoulder. "You deserve to be happy, too." We are too close to each other, entirely too close. But right now it feels like every neuron in my body is on fire, and I can't push her away. I worry that I might do something stupid. Like kiss her. And that's the _last_ thing that she needs.

"Ah, don't worry about me, Rose Tyler," I tell her, smiling sadly into her hair. "I'll be alright. I'm always alright, remember?"

She smacks my other shoulder lightly with her hand. "That's a load of crap and you know it," she says. "I wish there were two of me. Then you could be happy too."

"Well even if there were, she still wouldn't _my_ Rose Tyler," I point out, grabbing her hand and placing it where my other heart used to be. "And I would still miss you. So that would just be silly, don't you think?"

Rose smiles despite her tears. "Nah."

I pull her tighter, despite the fact that my brain is screaming at me to push her away, to leave this room _right now._ "Do you know why the Doctor has two hearts, Rose?"

She looks up at me, brow furrowed. "Uh, because"-

I shake my head. "No, not because he needs a respiratory bypass system," I tell her with an exasperated smile. "It's because he needs two hearts to love you. One for him…and one for me."

"Doctor," she whispers, overcome with emotion. As I watch her staring up at me with those amber eyes I know so well, I can feel the last of my resistance flying right out the TARDIS doors. Before I can stop myself I pull her in and crash my lips to hers, and all I can think right now is that _I'm her Doctor._ Rose sighs against my lips and wraps her arms around my neck, deepening the kiss. She, too, is lost in the moment. I relish in the sweetness of her lips, the softness of her skin beneath my fingers, the way the contours of her body fit perfectly with mine. I memorize it, because memories are all I will have.

After a few moments, I pull back and gently push her away. "Go," I tell her. Rose watches me for a few breathless seconds before turning around and bolting out the door of the infirmary. There is so much more that I want to say to her, but this time, it truly doesn't need saying. She _knows._ I give her a few moments to get a head start, and then follow her out the door, shutting it behind me.

What neither of us realize is that the other Doctor has been hiding in the shadows of the infirmary the whole time, and has just witnessed everything between us. He watches me go, then pulls a blue sapphire ring out of his pocket. He studies it for a moment, then slips it back into his pocket with a resigned sigh before following me out the door.

That night, I wake up drenched in sweat, my heart racing furiously. The blankets lie in a tangle at my feet, thrown around in the midst of my latest nightmare. This dream found me standing on the front lines again, watching the faces of the people I love disintegrate into ash right before my eyes. I've come to accept by now that the dreams are a curse that I will always live with. I suppose the bright side of being the human-time lord metacrisis is that at least now I'm only facing fifty or so more years of this endless torture, rather than a thousand.

Feeling restless, I climb out of bed, careful not to trip in the pitch black room. I tread silently through the hallway and down the stairs, being careful not to wake anyone up. Not that it makes any difference, really; it's still early enough that nobody else has even contemplated stirring yet. Raindrops start to hit my face as I make my way towards the garden shed that's currently housing the TARDIS, but I don't really pay much attention nor do I care.

I enter the shed, becoming a bit alarmed when the TARDIS sends a wave of distress my way. My fingers brush against the well-worn wood as I unlock the door, curious as to what could possibly be bothering my ship. The moment I set foot inside, I know why.

My Time Lord counterpart is standing on the other side of the console, his face bathed in the green light of the time rotor. His hand is poised over a lever ready to pull, but he freezes when he spots me standing in the doorway. There's a flash of guilt in his dark eyes before he carefully neutralizes his expression.

"Well hello, Doctor! What are you doing there?" I bounce over to the console, playing the game even though I know that he knows that I know exactly what he's doing.

The Doctor stares at me for a moment before returning his attention to the console. "Nothing." He turns his focus to the computer at the console, rapidly typing in a jumble of numbers and symbols. It's nothing but show, really; just an excuse to avoid looking me in the eye again.

"I know what you're thinking," I say, already running out of patience with the charade. "It's not gonna happen."

"Oh really?" The Doctor snaps. "What am I thinking then, _brother_?" Much to our annoyance, Jackie has taken to referring to the two of us as brothers even though we're the same person. I suppose it helps her rationalize the situation. The Doctor slaps his hand down on another button, clearly irritated.

"You're thinking about running away," I tell him, taking a deep breath before I start to lose a grip on my temper. Rassilon, I can be such a daft idiot sometimes. "Like we always do."

"Am not."

I sit on the jump seat and lazily prop my feet up on the console before pulling a small metal object out of my pocket. I toss it into the air a couple of times, catching it with ease. The Doctor's eyes widen when he realizes what it is. "What did you do to my TARDIS?" he asks, coming over and snaking out his hand to catch it midair. I get to it first. I might be human now but I still have my reflexes.

"You forget that you're me," I tell him pointedly. "I knew the thought would cross your mind eventually. Which is unlucky for you, because I already inhibited the dematerialization circuit. You're stuck right here with the rest of us until I say otherwise or you have her on this ship, Doctor." Actually, the only reason I had it in my pocket is because I forgot to reactivate the circuit after I finished my repair work earlier, but he doesn't need to know that. The outcome is the same, either way.

The Doctor stiffens. "What I do is none of your business."

I leap out of the jump seat and look him in the eye. "You're planning on taking off again without her," I growl. "Of course it's my business. I'll be the one left to pick up the pieces. And that's assuming there will be any left to pick up. If you're just going to leave again, what was the point of coming back? Really, why did you come back at all?"

"You know why I left her in the first place?" he says, temper finally snapping. "I left her because I thought that she would be happy with you. Happy with being able to grow old with the man she loves, and have babies, and grandchildren, and be able to live her life around her family. She just found her father again, for the love of Rassilon. And she has a little brother. It's the family she's always wanted. How could I let her walk away from all that?"

"It was her decision to make. It was always her decision."

The Doctor turns away from me and stares up at the time rotor. "I should have never come back," he says bitterly. "It would have been better if I had left things as they were. So now I'm going to fix it. I'm leaving, and she can be happy with you. It will hurt at first, but she'll be better off without me around."

Something suddenly clicks in my mind. I don't know why it didn't occur to me before. Now I know why we're having this ridiculous conversation in the first place. "You heard us talking earlier, didn't you?" I ask suspiciously. "And now you're going to make decisions for her, _again,_ based on something you _thought you heard_. What about what she wants?"

"I didn't just hear it, I _saw_ it," the Doctor says, whipping around to face me again. "I will, always and forever, do what I think is best for her. And this time that means that I'm getting out of her life, forever."

That's when I do something that's completely out of character for me: I punch him. Maybe it's because he's about to break the heart of the girl I love yet again. Or maybe it's because I'm angry that he doesn't seem to have learned a damn thing and is still trying to make decisions for everyone else. But the reason doesn't matter, not really.

"Stop it!"

At the exact second my fist connects with his jaw, I realize too late that Rose has just run up behind the Doctor, intending to break us apart. I watch in horror as he stumbles backwards, knocking her completely off her feet. There's a loud _crack!_ as her skull connects with the edge of the console, then silence. She lies crumpled up on the grating, unmoving.

"Rose!"

I start to rush over to her, but the other Doctor has already recovered and pushes me out of the way. "What have you done?" he shouts angrily as he dives to the floor beside her and pulls her to him. She lies limply in his arms, white as a sheet. Blood is already pooling on her left temple.

"I'm so, so sorry Rose," he whispers pleadingly. "Please be okay." The Doctor looks up at me then, the Oncoming Storm brewing in his dark eyes. "I was right the day we stood on that beach," the he growls at me. "I can't believe I ever thought about leaving her behind with you." He stands up with Rose in his arms and hurries off to the med bay, leaving me alone in the console room.

I stare down at my hand in horror, wondering what the hell I've just done. The Doctor's words flash through my head. _I was right about you. You were born in battle, full of blood, anger, and revenge. He's too dangerous to be left on his own._ He's right, I realize. But it's not him that she's better off without. It's _me._ They're all better off without me.

I stumble out the door of the TARDIS and bolt for the house, ignoring the torrential downpour falling around me. This time I don't bother trying to be quiet as I race up to my room and quickly stuff my belongings into a bag. I don't have much, really: The sonic screwdriver, my blue suit and a few other pieces of clothing that I've acquired since my arrival, the psychic paper, and a small bag of precious stones that I lifted from the TARDIS are all that I have to my name. It will do, though.

I make my way back down the stairs and out the front door, saying a silent goodbye to the people behind me and the life that could have been.


	3. Chapter 3

**One Year Later **

_Pete_

I'm in the process packing up my things to go home for the weekend when my mobile rings, Jake's name lighting up the screen. I groan inwardly as I pick up the phone, fully expecting that it's one more fire I'm going to have to put out before I can get out of here. I hit the answer button, not even bothering with a hello. "What is it, Jake?"

"Boss you need to get down to Hyde Park," he says, sounding out rushed and out of breath. I can hear the sounds of chaos in the background. "You won't believe what we've found. You're gonna want to see this."

I can see my dreams of a relaxing weekend flying out the window, right along with my sanity. "Tell me, Jake, does it pose an immediate danger to humanity?" I ask impatiently. The group is in the process of investigating some sort of mysterious explosion or crash, so it is not entirely out of the realm of possibility. It never really is, in this line of work.

"No, I don't think so, but-"

"Is it going to alter the passage of time in any way, shape, or form?"

"Well not exactly, but-"

"Well then it can wait," I tell him. "I'm sure that whatever it is will be just as exciting on Monday." I click the disconnect button before he can respond, and bolt for the door before anyone else can find something to keep me here. I've just reached the end of an 80 hour work-week and nothing barring an explosion of disastrous proportions is going to stop me from going home and propping my feet up in front of the telly. My mobile vibrates again while I'm waiting for the lift. For a moment I consider just ignoring it, but Jake will keep calling and calling until I answer. And if I don't, he'll call Jackie. Then there really will be hell to pay. I reluctantly pull the phone out of my pocket and answer it again.

"Alright Jake," I tell him, feeling exasperated. "I'll give you five minutes. After that, I'm going home." It's only a few minutes to Hyde Park from here, and it is on my way. I calculate the time in my head. If it takes ten minutes to get there from here, five minutes for me to see whatever it is, and then fifteen more minutes to get home, I can be home in half an hour. No problem at all.

Exactly twenty minutes later, I'm striding across Hyde Park, thoroughly annoyed that things are already not going according to my designated schedule. I head in the general direction of Speakers' Corner, following a mass of people and the plume of smoke rising into the air. I'm doubting that any of these people are here to listen to a speech today, though. No, they only want to see what all the excitement is about. I push through the crowd of people and pull out my Torchwood badge before slipping under the police tape. Jake hurries up to me. "There you are," he says. "Come on." He grabs my arm and nearly drags me away from the group of onlookers.

"So what is it that I need to see?" I ask him, sweeping my eyes over the area. The crash site is behind a stand of trees, effectively blocking my view.

"You'll see." A strange look crosses Jake's face. The look that means that there's probably a miniaturized version of Godzilla running around somewhere in Hyde Park. And the way he's practically bouncing up and down on his feet it probably has teeth _and _wings. Which would be…a dragon. Dear God there's a freaking idragon/i flying around Hyde Park. For a moment I seriously consider turning around and running in the other direction.

As we reach the tree line, my heart nearly jumps into my throat. The plume of smoke is not, in fact, coming from a dragon-but an overturned police box. _No. _I pull myself from Jake's grip and take off running towards it.

"Boss, wait!" Jake calls out, hot on my heels.

"Rose!" I pull off my jacket and fall to my knees, ready to jump inside what's left of the TARDIS. The door is torn halfway off, and I can see that the inside is charred and blackened. I'm filled with a terror that I've never known before. I might not have participated in her conception, but she's just as much my child as Tony is. If anything has happened to her, I don't think that I could bear it.

Jake grabs my arm again. "Pete, stop!" He shouts, a commanding air to his voice. He doesn't speak that way often, but when he does, it's generally for a good reason. The lad is going to end up taking my place eventually, I have no doubt. I stop and look up at him, already halfway inside the ship. "She's not in there," he says, a little more gently this time.

"Then where is she? And what about the Doctor?" I become vaguely aware of eyes watching us, and I remember that I'm the Torchwood Director-the one that's not supposed to lose his head or get overcome with emotion. I stand up and brush myself off. I resist the urge to lash out in anger and frustration-this is not something that I was prepared to see. My daughter and both Doctors have been gone for nearly a year now-She went with one back to the other universe, and the other is busy gallivanting around the continent, trying to escape his broken heart. I never expected any of them to come back, especially not like this.

"I'll take you to her," he says. It doesn't escape me that he says _her _and not them. I follow him blindly over to where a group of medics are crouched on the ground tending to their patient, which I assume is Rose. They scatter as we approach, and I kneel down beside her. My eyes widen as I take in the scene before me. She's covered with dirt and ash but doesn't appear to be gravely injured, much to my relief. In fact, she sleeps peacefully, blissfully unaware of the chaos that's going on around her. No, what takes me by surprise is the sight of her rounded belly. Apparently, Rose Tyler is very, very pregnant. Oh, won't Jackie be surprised!

"We don't know where the Doctor is," Jake says quietly, kneeling down beside and cradling Rose's head in her arms. "Can't find him anywhere. When we got here, she was sprawled out on the grass, and the TARDIS was burning. We're pretty sure that it's…destroyed." He looks over at the wreckage, then up at me. "How are we going to tell her, Pete?"

I don't even want to think about that yet. Rose stirs a bit in her sleep, mumbling something incoherent. I gently shake her shoulder. "Rose," I say. "Rose, wake up." A sudden movement catches my eye and I look up to see a photographer standing behind a nearby tree. The press is going to be all over this in a few minutes' time-I'm surprised it's taken them this long. I need to get Rose out of here, and quickly. Jake sees the photographer too and stalks off to get rid of the intruder.

"Doctor?"

Her voice is soft and rough, as if it hurts her to speak. The photographer is forgotten as I turn my attention back to her. "Rose, you've had some sort of accident, and now you're in Hyde Park. You're safe now. Do you remember what happened?" My eyes unconsciously move to her belly, wondering at the condition of the baby inside.

Her amber eyes are fully open now, and she looks terrified. "Who…are you?" she asks, staring up at me. "And where is the Doctor?"

I get a sinking feeling in my stomach, wondering just how bad of a tumble she really took during the crash. I don't see any immediate signs of a head injury but then again I'm not a medical person in the least. "Rose, it's Pete," I say. "Remember? You met me when you and the Doctor came to my universe and crashed Jackie's party. You saved our lives." When there is still no sign of recognition in her eyes, I keep going. "You lived here for a while. You worked with me at Torchwood until the Doctor came back."

What happens next is not what I'm expecting. The moment "Torchwood" falls from my lips, her entire demeanor changes. She's on her feet and holding a knife to my throat before I can even process what's happening. I didn't even know a pregnant woman could move that fast. "Who are you really?" she asks bitterly. "What have you done with the Doctor?"

I hold up my hands as my eyes meet hers. This is _not _my Rose. Head injury or no, she hates violence. When I asked her about it once, she told me that the Doctor would always try everything else first. My mind races to come up with an answer that will not give her motivation to kill me. Just as I'm opening my mouth to respond, her eyes roll into the back of her head and she collapses onto the blanket again. I can see a small red dart sticking out of her back.

"What the hell was that?" Jake asks, running up to me. There are about ten other field agents racing in our direction.

"That's not Rose," I tell him, jumping up and backing away from the girl. "I don't know who she is but it's not my Rose."

Jake reaches down to check the stranger's pulse. "She's alive, but she'll be out for a while," he says. "Those darts are meant for creatures three times her size." He turns back to me. "Are you hurt?"

"Only my pride." I stand up and dust myself off, annoyed that I nearly allowed my emotions to get me killed. The adrenaline is racing through me but I do my best to play the part of the fierce Torchwood Director, despite the fact that right now I feel like anything but. "You," I bark at a nearby field agent. "Get her back to Torchwood. I want to know exactly who she is and how she got here." I turn back to Jake. "I have business to take care of. I'm leaving you in charge of getting this mess cleaned up and keeping it out of the spotlight while I'm gone."

He nods, giving me a knowing look. "You got it, Boss. Tell him I said it's about time."

"And do me one more favor," I add.

"What's that?"

"Don't let Jackie know about this." I turn and stride off across the grass. So much for a nice relaxing weekend.

_Ian_

It's almost a year to the day that I left when come face to face with Pete Tyler again.

And what a year it's been.

After heading out of London that night as fast as I could go, I spent several months traveling around the globe, hopping from place to place without a care in the world. I traveled to Madrid, Berlin, Rome, Prague, New York. Traveling was what kept me busy, and my emotions at bay. It really wasn't much different from my old days in the TARDIS, except of course I no longer have a TARDIS.

Unfortunately, it didn't take me long to realize that money goes out a lot faster than you realize, and people don't really like you very much when you don't have money to pay them. Eventually I started picking up "alien jobs" on the side. I still hate taking money from people for doing what I've spent most of my life doing for free, but a man's got to eat.

Two days ago, I was approached by an unfamiliar man while I was completing a job in Edinburgh. I couldn't really see his face due to a hat and glasses, but I wasn't worried too much about that. There are plenty of people who want to remain anonymous when it comes to this type of thing. "There's been a rash of attacks in the London Underground the past few weeks, Dr. Noble," he'd said to me. "The police are painting it as just another string of robberies, but people like you and I, we know better. I need someone to put a stop to it. Are you interested?"

At that point, I should have asked more questions. Like why Torchwood London couldn't handle this as a routine job. Or how he'd found me here, and how he knew my name. I work very hard to stay under the radar. But my human brain was too busy being captivated by the large stack of bills that he flashed at me to really think about that at the time. That amount of money would keep me comfortable and fed for a good long while. "Count me in," I'd said, not missing a beat. I still have a strong urge to get as far away from London as possible, but I couldn't really afford to pass this up. I would have to solve the problem as quickly as possible and move on before Torchwood got wind that I was here.

That's why I'm now sitting in the London underground at dusk, watching and waiting as the world goes by. It's been nearly two hours, and so far nothing of any major consequence has happened. The only thing I've done so far in the name of heroism was to stop a rough-looking adolescent from defacing city property with spray paint. We had a nice long talk about being a good citizen and respecting the property of others before I sent him on his way.

Another hour goes by, and still nothing to show for it. I buy myself a hamburger and chips from a nearby fast food restaurant before returning to my bench, keeping a wary eye on the crowd around me. I notice a stray dog lying quietly on the concrete nearby, watching me eat with an envious expression. He's thin and dirty, and I can't help but feel pity for the creature. I look down at my half eaten hamburger, then up at him again. "Here," I tell him, tossing the rest of the burger in his direction. "You look like you could use this more than me." The mongrel swallows the food hungrily, wagging his tail in thanks. When he's done, he lays back down on the floor with a sigh.

"You're on your own too, I see," I tell him. "I know the feeling." I pop a chip in my mouth and toss a few to him before scanning the crowd again. "I've been living the gypsy life, too. Left home a year ago and never looked back. Welllll, I say home. But it was never actually my home." I wonder if the fact that I'm making conversation with a stray dog is a sign that I've become a complete hermit. To my amusement he listens intently, as if he understands every word that I'm saying.

Suddenly the dog lets out a low growl, deep in his throat. For a moment I worry that he's going to become aggressive, until I realize that he's not looking at me. Instead, his brown eyes are focused on a man in a blue coat standing near the edge of the platform. He paces back and forth, pausing every few seconds to stare down the tunnel as if he's in a terrible hurry for the train to arrive.

I watch him curiously, hair prickling on the back of my neck. Something about the way he's acting just doesn't seem right. Well, if trouble is going to happen, I might as well be ready for it. I don't know whether the man intends on causing harm to someone else or only himself, but that's not something that I'm willing to stand by and let happen. I give the stray the remnants of my meal before standing up and casually wandering closer to the edge of the platform.

At first, the man doesn't even notice me. In fact, he's so busy pacing and watching that he nearly knocks me off onto the tracks. "Excuse me," I finally say, tapping him on the shoulder. I wonder what could have this man in such a tailspin that he could nearly push someone to their death and not even notice. "What time does the next train come through?"

That's all it takes. One look at me and he's off, racing down the platform and bumping people out of the way as he goes. I take off after him, because innocent people don't run like that for no reason. He disappears into a nearby crowd, but he's tall enough for me to see the top of his hat as he goes. I pick up my speed and people quickly step out of the way to let me through.

"Hey!" I yell at him when he comes into sight again. He looks over his shoulder at me and I nearly stop in my tracks when his skin starts to shimmer an eerie shade of gold. It only lasts a second before he returns to his normal color and he's off again, pushing people out of the way. Okay, so definitely not human then. As I take off after him once more I realize that he's making his way up to the main doors. If I lose him now, my chance to solve this case and possibly save several lives will be gone. And so will the money that I so desperately need to get by.

Golden Boy rushes up the escalator, but he is slowed down by a large group of teenage girls. They are texting on their phones and chatting, completely oblivious to the chaos that is going on behind them. Grateful for the momentary delay, I charge up the escalator two steps at a time. Just as we reach the main level, however, he grabs one of the girls from behind. When he turns back around, he's holding a knife to her throat. People around us begin to scream, the group of girls she's with scattering in every direction.

"Walk away," he growls at me, moving the tip of the knife closer to the young woman's jugular. "Walk away, or she dies." She watches me with wide eyes, and I can see that she's shaking in terror.

For a moment, I can't seem to find the words to speak. My heart jumps into my throat as I stare at the woman he's holding, transfixed. She's young, blonde, and all I can think of in those few silent seconds is that _she looks like Rose._ Every emotion that I've been running from for so long hits me like a tidal wave. _I'm supposed to be over this by now._

"Alright, Mate," I tell him when I've gotten my wits about me again. I hold my hands up in mock defeat. "I'm walking away. See?" I back up a few steps, keeping my eyes on him the whole time. My mind races to come up with a plan to get her out of this alive. I decide that the gentle approach is the first way to go. "There's no reason for anyone to get hurt. She's just a kid. Let her go and we'll talk about this."

"You for her," he says, moving the knife even closer to her throat now. I can see a slight trickle of blood running down her neck from where the blade has pierced her skin. "You come with me, I'll let her go."

"Deal," I say, not thinking twice. I drop my hands and walk forward. Golden Boy pushes the girl aside and roughly grabs my arm, shoving me in front of him. He presses the tip of the knife into my back warningly, making it clear that he won't tolerate any funny business.

"Move," he says, nudging me towards the doors.

"You know, an introduction might be in order," I tell him irritably as I step forward. "Clearly we're going to be spending some time together, we might as well night be strangers, don't you think? I'm Ian, by the way. What is your name?"

Before he can open his mouth to tell me to shut up, a large brown and gray blur enters my field of vision. I can't see it well but whatever it is apparently terrifies Golden Boy, because he lets out a scream of terror. It launches itself through the air, throwing its full body weight against him with the force of an angry bull. We are both knocked to the floor, and for a moment I'm caught in a massive tangle of hands, teeth, fur, and claws. I manage to escape from the chaos and roll away, putting myself safely out of reach of sharp teeth.

After a few moments of yelling, growling, and snapping, everything goes silent. I sit up and nearly laugh out loud as I take in the scene in front of me. Golden Boy is lying flat on his back, the knife thrown somewhere out of his reach. The stray dog that I shared my dinner with only moments ago is lying beside him, his massive jaws around the man's neck. Every time the man moves, the dog tightens his grip a little and growls. He's not hurting him in the slightest; it's merely a warning to the man to stay where he is at. The dog looks up at me and thumps his tail on the floor as if to say, _Don't worry, I've got this!_

A horde of security guards suddenly surrounds us, securing the man and asking questions. The dog is at first unwilling to remove his teeth from the man's throat, but after some coaxing he does so. I call him over and pat him on the head as the guards handcuff the man and take him away. "Good dog," I say. After a moment I get up and slip into the crowd, determined to get away before anyone has a chance to remember that I'm there. The last thing I want is to talk to people right now, and all I really want to do is go back to my hotel and lick my emotional wounds in peace. I suddenly realize that the dog is trotting along at my heels, like we've been together forever.

"You know, I appreciate you saving me and all, but I don't really live a dog-suitable kind of life," I tell him dully, looking down at him. "You don't want to follow me. Right now I'm sad and angry and I couldn't buy you a dog biscuit, even if I wanted to. You'd be better off finding a child who will slip you scraps under the dinner table every night." I turn around and keep walking, but he keeps right on following. I stop again and he stares up at me with an adoring expression, tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth as if he's the happiest creature on the planet. Well, I suppose he is.

"Alright," I tell him. "But don't think you're going to get any special treatment from me. You'll have to earn your keep. And no chewing on my trainers, either." I head off towards the main doors again, my new friend still trotting along at my heels as if he belongs there. I suppose it won't be so bad, having a companion again. It's been a while, and I could always use someone to keep me out of trouble.

Just as we reach the exit, a familiar voice calls out from behind me.

"Good job. I knew you wouldn't let me down."

Damn. So much for getting out of London unnoticed. I turn around to see Pete Tyler standing there, a smirk on his face. "Welcome back to London, Doctor."


	4. Chapter 4

"Welcome back to London, Doctor."

I should have known.

"Pete." I stand in the doorway, not moving. "I certainly wasn't expecting to see you here today." I'm really not in the mood to deal with him right now. The sooner I can get out of here, the better. Unfortunately, it's looking like that's not likely to happen anytime soon.

He raises an eyebrow. "Were you expecting someone else?"

"No, no, I suppose not." I should have known the moment I was asked to come back to London that something was up. It is Pete Tyler, after all. I cross my arms and lean against the door frame, ignoring the crowd of people exiting around us. The excitement is over, so they've lost interest. "Are you going to tell me the real reason that I've been brought back to London?"

Pete shrugs casually. "Who says there's another reason? I needed you to do a job, and you did it."

I roll my eyes. "Pete, I might be human now, but I'm not stupid." I point to my temple. "Time Lord brain, remember?"

"Oi!" he says indignantly, giving me a glare that is completely and one-hundred percent Rose Tyler. "You have to live with all these humans now, so I'd be nice to them if I were you."

"Right, sorry. Rude and not ginger, that's me." He looks rather confused by this so I wave my hand casually, trying to change the subject back to more important topics. "You still haven't told me why I'm here."

"We need to talk."

Well it took him long enough to stop beating around the bush. I let out a bark of laughter. "I've been gone an entire year and you decide that _now_ is a good time to talk? If you think that you're going to punish me somehow for what happened to Rose, don't bother. I do plenty of that already," I tell him bitterly. I don't add that I'll probably spend the rest of my life punishing myself for what happened.

Pete looks alarmed. "What are you talking about? What happened to Rose? Have you heard from them?"

I'm a bit taken aback by his sudden barrage of questions. It suddenly occurs to me that maybe Pete has no idea why I disappeared. I wouldn't put it past the Doctor to heal Rose up in the infirmary and then not breathe a word about it to anyone else, not even her. "Nevermind," I tell him. "I don't want to talk about it."

He gives me a skeptical look but nods anyway, not pushing the subject. "Right," he says finally. "Well, we do need to talk about things. I need your help, Doctor."

"With what?" I ask curiously. "And it's Ian. I'm not the Doctor anymore." I may still look like him, talk like him, and have the same wonky ear as him, but that part of my life is long gone.

"_Ian,"_ Pete corrects himself, a little impatiently. "One of my drivers is going to take you back to Torchwood. This is not something that we need to discuss openly here." He glances around at the crowd of people who are milling past us, most likely to look for nosy ears that might be standing nearby.

"That's not necessary," I tell him. "I can get there on my own." But Pete has already turned around and is talking to one of the agents nearby. The man nods and starts to walk towards me as Pete turns to leave.

"Oh, and Jed," he says, looking over his shoulder. "Make sure you get that dog a meal and a bath." He nods at the stray sitting at my feet with a slight look of distaste before disappearing into the crowd.

"This way, sir," the man called Jed says to me. He appears to be very young, the marks of youth still dotting his face. He leads us towards a black unmarked SUV, typical Torchwood standard.

"Hi Jed," I greet him cheerfully. "Jeddy-Jed. Ooh, can I call you Jedi? Thanks for the ride, but it's not really necessary. I can find my own way. Bit of an independent streak, me." I flash him a grin and start to walk the other way, but he scrambles to get ahead of me and blocks my path.

"I'm sorry, Sir, but I'm under strict orders. Sir." The poor kid looks slightly terrified and I can't help but take pity on him. An angry Pete Tyler is not something that I would want to deal with either.

"Right then," I tell him with a sigh of defeat. "Off to Torchwood we go." Besides, I'm more than a little curious about what this thing is that Pete seems to think we need to discuss. I'll be out of here soon enough, anyway.

Looking more than a little relieved, Jed hurries back to the SUV with me in tow and opens the back passenger door. The dog scrambles in first, leaving a trail of muddy footprints on the immaculate leather seats and a trail of dust in his wake. I shrug at Jed, who looks rather disgusted by my canine companion's antics. Probably because _he_ is going to be the one responsible for cleaning up the mess. I fervently hope that the animal doesn't have a tendency to get carsick.

Luckily it's a relatively short drive back to Torchwood. The moment we pull into the underground garage, the dog begins to whine excitedly, as if he's announcing that he can't _wait_ to get familiar with all the immaculate leather couches and spotless white rugs in this joint. Jed pulls into what looks to be some sort of holding area that I've never seen before. I have no doubt that it's used for transporting live cargo into the building safely (more for the employees than for the cargo, I'm sure).

Jed jumps out of the driver's seat and comes around to pull open the door for me even though I'm perfectly capable of getting out by myself. "Well, here we are," he says with a big smile, though he looks slightly intimidated by the gigantic hairy beast who is currently trying to use me as a climbing wall to get to his face. "Here. At Torchwood. All of us." He holds up a leash and a collar that he's somehow managed to procure out of the blue. "Perhaps we should, um, put this on your pet."

I start to take the collar and leash from his hand but I'm whisked away by another agent before I can speak. "Jed, you can take care of that creature while I get Dr. Noble settled," the man says with a smirk. I look over my shoulder to see poor Jed trying in vain to collar the dog, who seems to have realized that getting _out_ of the vehicle quite possibly means he'll be getting a bath. And maybe shots. And whatever other forms of torture these crazy humans can come up with. I start to turn around and go back to help, but the agent leading me away guides me towards the elevators. "Don't worry about young Jed," he says with a laugh. "He's got to earn his keep around here."

We take the elevator all the way up to the top. The very top, I realize, when we emerge and I find myself looking out over all of London. We're on the Penthouse floor. "I'm supposed to be taken to Pete's office," I tell the agent. "We're definitely on the wrong level, because I'm not staying here."

"You are," he says firmly. "Director Tyler had some other business to take care of. He gave me strict instructions to get you settled in for the night. Said to tell you that he will see you exactly at seven in the morning, and not to be late. Oh, and that he'll track you down if you try to run again." I roll my eyes in annoyance but follow the guard anyway. I have no doubt that Pete will only find me and bring me back if I disappear, so I might as well not even try to leave.

My mouth falls open slightly when the agent ushers me inside. What I had been expecting was something akin to a nice hotel room, or even just a spare bed with a pillow and a blanket on the lower level; what I'm getting is nearly the size of a small house. The front door leads us into the kitchen, which overlooks the ornately decorated living room. Ornate, expensive-looking, iwhite/i furniture. Now I know why they insisted on bathing the dog when we arrived. I can only hope that he doesn't decide the whole place is one giant chew toy.

The far wall consists entirely of floor-to-ceiling windows and a grand set of French doors leading out to a balcony. Momentarily forgetting the agent is there, I walk over and throw them open. A humid wind hits my face as I take in the view below me. Night has fallen and there are lights visible as far as the eye can see. Maybe it doesn't compare to the Medusa Cascade, but for an Earth view, it can't be beat. My smile falters slightly, though, when I catch sight of the London Eye. Even if I'm in a different universe, it's one thing that I don't ever think I'll be able to look at without remembering _her._

The agent coughs impatiently behind me, clearly ready to leave and get on with his night. I've nearly forgotten that he's there. "Right," he says when I turn around. "You'll find extra toilet paper in the closet, food in the pantry, and if you're still hungry the coffee shop on the first floor opens at 5 a.m. Jed will bring your dog up shortly." He fishes a card out of his pocket and hands it to me. "Here's my number in case you need anything. Any questions?"

I shake my head, suddenly feeling exhausted by the chaos that has been my day. "No, I think I can take it from here." He nods curtly and hurries out the door, clearly eager to leave. I'm left alone in the penthouse again, only the sound of silence filling my ears. I step out onto the balcony again and lean against the railing, enjoying the feel of the breeze against my skin. There's a storm brewing on the horizon, boiling clouds illuminated every few seconds by streaks of lightning. It's very unusual weather for mid-October in London. There's also a strange metallic tang to the air that I hadn't noticed before. It's oddly familiar, though I can't quite place it. I never realized how dampened the senses of the human body were until I found myself in one. Still, I can taste whatever it is on my tongue, and for some reason, it makes the hair stand up on my arms. Almost as if it's _wrong_. I make a mental note to ask Pete about it tomorrow.

I stand outside for a while longer, watching the storm roll in. Raindrops begin to pelt my face, gently at first until it's nothing less than a torrential downpour. I know that I should go inside, but I'm still feeling a bit raw from what happened earlier and anyways, I detest the thought of returning to yet more silence. At least the storm fills my ears with some sort of sound.

I eventually do retreat inside when a bolt of lightning cracks dangerously close to me, sending a buzzing feeling through my limbs. Since I can't regenerate anymore, I decide that it would probably be wise to protect the one body I've got. As I'm closing the doors behind me, there's a knock on the front one. I open it to find a woman I've never met standing there with a particularly terrified (and clean) dog by her side. The brown dog that followed me out of the London Underground is gone, replaced by one with yellow fur, white paws, and a black muzzle. He's whining and spinning around in circles, trying desperately to get away. As soon as I open the door wide enough, he yanks the leash out of her hand and crashes headlong into the flat, heading somewhere in the vicinity of the bedroom.

"Hello," I say, holding open the door so that she can come inside. But she just holds up her hand, looking harried.

"Really, I should be getting back, Dr. Noble. I just wanted to bring your dog back to you."

"What happened to Jed?" I ask warily.

"Oh, he had to go home," she says, waving her hand nonchalantly. "Personal emergency, you know." Hmm. Personal emergency, my arse.

After the woman leaves, I do a quick search of the flat for the dog, who seems to have disappeared entirely. I finally manage to locate him wedged underneath the bed, shivering and drooling profusely. The leash is still attached to his collar, and it's evident that he's been taking out his frustration on it with his teeth.

"Hello," I tell him, lying down on my stomach next to the edge of the bed. I unclip the damaged leash and toss it aside. "How is it that you don't bat an eye when bringing down the bad guys but you're afraid of a little thunderstorm?" There's a sharp crack of lightning outside and the lights flicker a few times. "Thunder is just a bit of rapidly expanding air," I explain to him. "That's all it is, really. It's actually quite pleasant, if you ask me. If you're going to be scared, it's the lightning that you should be afraid of." I have no idea why I'm explaining the mechanics of a thunderstorm to a dog, but my voice seems to calm him down a little so I keep going.

"I saw this incredible storm on Galaxia 8 once," I tell him. "The storm had been ongoing for almost an entire year. Not moving, not developing, just sitting there. It should be impossible, shouldn't it? I mean, a thunderstorm is a process. The air heats up, water evaporates, you get just the right amount of moisture and unstable air. And then, when all of that comes together ijust/i right, you get a storm. But not that one. That one…fueled itself." I lift my head a little as another clap of thunder rattles the building. The dog whines anxiously and scoots forward a little, resting his muzzle on my elbow. He sighs heavily and closes his eyes, as if he's just had the longest day of his entire life.

We lie on the floor like that for a while, mostly because he looks comfortable and I don't exactly have any real reason to get up. Now that I'm looking at him up close, I realize that what I merely saw as a dirty stray is really not much more than a lanky, oversized puppy. I scratch the top of his head with my free hand, wondering how the poor soul ended up living in the London Underground hoping to be tossed a few scraps. He appears to be a mongrel of the common variety-a little Yellow lab mixed with a little German shepherd, and perhaps few other things thrown in to top it off. His hair is thick and wiry, like a schnauzer's, and he has a bit of an underbite, giving him a rather comical appearance. He's certainly not an eye-catcher by any means, but he is rather cute in a strange sort of way.

Eventually my stomach starts to growl, and I realize that the small meal that I had from the concession stand has long since worn off. I get up and pad to the kitchen, my newfound friend hot on my heels. Clearly, being terrified is worth it if there's the possibility that food is involved. I locate a few sandwich items and cobble together a meal, accidentally dropping a few pieces of sliced turkey for the dog every so often. He wags his tail happily, patiently waiting for me to drop more. With a sigh, I pull another piece of meat off my sandwich.

"Don't think this is going to become a regular thing," I warn him. "You're not _that_ cute."

There's something wet, slimy, and _moving_ on my face.

"Ugh!"

I jump up in a panic and scramble across the bed, fully convinced that I'm trapped in a giant tub filled with thousands of Thalanian Sea Slugs. Definitely one galaxy that I have no desire to _ever_ set foot in again. When I get my wits about me, I realize that it's not a sea slug leaving a trail of slime across my face, but a very distressed looking dog. He paces back and forth beside the bed, stopping every few seconds to rest his head on the edge and whine loudly.

"Hello," I tell him, trying to look stern but likely failing miserably. "Is there a particular reason you felt the need to wake me up at-" I glance at the clock-"two in the morning?"

He sits back on his haunches and gives me a sharp bark, as if he's saying, _isn't it obvious? Get with the program, you silly human._

"I'm sorry, I don't speak dog," I tell him grumpily, climbing back under the covers and burying my head in the pillow. "That's one language I never learned. Can't you learn to speak human?" The dog barks at me again before grabbing the corner of the duvet in his teeth and pulling on it.

"Hey! That's mine!" I yank it back, feeling indignant. He's got it firmly in his jaws, though, and I can see there's no way that I'm going to win this one. Much more of this and there will be feathers flying everywhere. An ugly duvet is definitely not something that I want to be in debt to Pete Tyler for. "Alright, alright, you win," I grumble, sitting up again and throwing my legs over the side of the bed. "Now what is it that you want? You can't possibly be hungry. You ate more of my dinner than I did."

The dog is out of the room before I'm even on my feet. I grab some clothes from the pile on the floor and throw them on, wondering why he feels the need to be so active before the sun is even up. I've rather grown to like this whole sleeping thing that humanity requires, and climbing out of a nice warm bed before sunrise on a day when the weather is nasty is not my idea of fun. When I walk into the living room, he's standing at the front door, tail thumping furiously against the wall. He spins around in a circle when he sees me, nails clacking on the hardwood floor.

_Ah_. I do a quick mental calculation and realize that it's been several hours since he's been outside at all. I feel slightly guilty for making him wait so long. I grab my jacket from the back of the chair. "Alright, let's go," I tell him. "Can't exactly be mad at you, can I?" At least he seems to be housetrained. We make our way down to the main floor and exit out a side door of the building, heading for a spot where I know there's a grassy area. Since he's already destroyed his new leash, I let him roam loose, since he seemed perfectly happy to follow me to the ends of the Earth last time. The storm has long since subsided, and now it's nothing but a cold rain. I throw the hood of my coat over my head, and wait.

Five minutes later, I'm starting to get irritable. He's still sniffing around, trying to find the perfect spot. I myself am hopping up and down, trying to stay warm. The heat and humidity I felt earlier on the balcony is long gone, replaced by a chill that reaches right to my bones. I once again remind myself to mention the odd weather changes to Pete when I speak to him in a few hours, because something about this whole thing is off.

"Aren't you done yet?" I ask the dog impatiently. The rain is picking up again and I really just want to go back inside. "All the spots are the same, you know. Just pick one." He looks at me in what I'm certain is disdain and goes right back to what he's doing. Another two minutes go by before he picks a spot and does his business. He happily trots back to me, looking completely nonplussed by the rain. When he reaches me, of course, he gives his coat a furious shake, sending a wild spray of muddy droplets flying in every direction. I just shake my head, feeling more amused than annoyed. "You're completely bonkers, you know that?" I tell him.

Just as I'm opening the door, the dog freezes in place, staring at something over his shoulder. He listens intently to something I can't hear, his ears perked up so much they're almost standing upright. I can tell what's going through his head by the look in his eyes.

"Don't even think it," I warn him, giving him a gentle nudge with my knee in the hopes that he will move. "We're not-"

I let out a loud curse as he spins around and takes off at a dead run in the other direction, barking his head off. I make a lunge for the collar around his neck, but I miss it by mere centimeters. He barrels around the corner of the building, his haunches sliding on the concrete as he disappears from view. "Really?" I growl in frustration, sorely tempted to turn around and march back inside out of sheer annoyance. It's not like I _asked_ for a dog, anyway. If he wants to be stupid and spend the night out in a torrential downpour, then he can just fend for himself. Just as I'm reaching for the door handle, though, I find myself wondering what Rose would do if she was here. Without hesitation, I turn around and march down the sidewalk in search of the beast.

I follow the path that I assume the dog has taken, but I don't see a sign of him anywhere. I open my mouth to yell out his name only to realize that I haven't the faintest idea what I should call him, so I shut it again and keep walking. I wonder if perhaps he's just a bit of a gypsy, disappearing at the drop of a hat and running from one place to the next. _Always running_. I suddenly realize I've slowed down and I pick up my pace again, determined to find him. At the very least, I should probably rescue whatever poor soul he's chosen to take out his canine exuberance on.

Just as I'm about to give up, I hear a loud howling coming from a nearby alley that I've just passed. It's a painful, distressed cry, one that makes the hair stand up on my arms. I do an about-face and follow the sound, now worried that my big yellow pup has somehow managed to get himself into trouble. I spot him near the other end of the alley, pawing and nosing at something on the ground.

"Hey," I call out, approaching slowly in case he gets the urge to run again. "Let's go back inside. It's a nightmare out here." And that's a bit of an understatement. It's bitterly cold, and the rain that was a steady drizzle just a few moments ago is quickly becoming a torrential downpour again. The dog doesn't move, though-he just stands where he's at, barking at me frantically, every so often to nose at something that I can't see. "What is it, boy?" I ask, moving closer to see what's got him so upset.

I quickly realizes that it's a _woman_. She's lying away from me in the fetal position, clothes soaked with rain and blood. I can see a large gaping cut running from her left temple to her cheek, and her arm sticks out at an odd angle. My eyes drift down to her midsection, which is visibly swollen with pregnancy. This is not good. Really, really not good.

"Hey!" I gently pat her shoulder blade, trying to avoid causing her any more pain than necessary. "Hey, wake up." At first I worry that she might be dead, but then she groans loudly in pain. Even in the darkness, I can see how gray her skin is. She's losing blood, and fast. I look around, fervently hoping that maybe someone else has heard my dog's loud barking and has come to investigate or at least poked their head out of a nearby window in annoyance. No such luck. It's just me, a dog with a hero complex, and a woman whose time on this Earth will be over quickly if I don't do something soon. I rack my brain trying to figure out what to do. I don't even have the sonic in my pocket right now; I rarely go anywhere without it, but of course I'd mistakenly assumed I'd only be outside for about two minutes.

Making a flash decision, I scoop her up in my arms and head back towards the road. The dog trots along at my heels silently, every so often bumping my calf. "I'm going to get you some help," I tell her. "You're safe now." I can only hope that I'm not wrong. Her breathing is fast and shallow, and she doesn't react at all when I shift her around in an attempt to regain my balance.

It's when we reach a streetlight and I catch a glimpse of her face that horror washes over me.

The woman in my arms is Rose Tyler.


End file.
